


A Deal in the Dark

by Penopy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Fake Relationship, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-05-27 18:48:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15030998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penopy/pseuds/Penopy
Summary: [AU] [Drabble] Hermione is just trying to make a difference at the ministry, but there's not much she can do as an entry level nobody.  Tom Riddle makes her an offer she can refuse.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Let me preface this by saying that I probably won't be adding to this drabble any time soon. I wrote this while taking a break from my other stories, and I'd rather finish those before working any further on this one. This is rather fun and ripe with tropes, however, and I had fun writing this super ballsy feminist Hermione paired up against a charming, mercurial Tom Riddle in modern day. So there's that, I guess, haha. Thank you for stopping by and reading! ^^ - Pen

Hermione Granger dropped in the chair and let out a loud, shuddering breath, struggling to keep her composure from cracking.  Her robes were open, revealing the neat pencil skirt and blouse she had worn for today’s meeting - having donned them in the morning assuming today was a big day - _that she was finally going to make a difference, however small_  - but not only had the meeting failed, it had utterly crashed and burned.  No one was interested in ‘saving the werewolves’ and she had to stand there after giving her presentation, biting her tongue and attempting to keep her temper under control as the group of her male and largely pure-blooded co-workers sneered and told her to temper her idealism and tried to educate her about the way the real world worked.  Bloody highest NEWTs scores - only matched by Tom Riddle himself - in almost two centuries, two international internships abroad, and she still had to put up with mediocre wizards attempting to educate her poor little female self while simultaneously eyeing her bare legs and making her want to reenact that glorious moment from third year when she had broken Draco Malfoy's nose.  Hermione snorted rudely and reached for her coffee, taking comfort from the heat emanating through the paper cup. 

It hadn't even been the worse part. As soon as she had stepped out of the meeting room and barely just refrained from slamming the door behind her, frustrated tears pricking at the back of her eyes, no other than Cormac McLaggen had rounded the corner and stopped dead when he saw her standing there, probably looking as overwhelmed and out-of-sorts as she felt.  She didn’t miss the way his eyes had darted down and then up over her body, even as his handsome features began to twist up in to something ugly the longer they stared at each other. She hadn't seen him since he had admitted he only ever dated her to win a bet with his friends (something about someone finally putting the ‘ice queen’ in her place) when she confronted him about cheating on her with Romilda Vane.She hadn’t been in love with him, and if she was being honest with herself, she had only dated him for those few months in seventh year because she didn’t want to go her entire Hogwarts career without having a boyfriend, so she had honestly felt more relieved that she had a reason to end things between them than betrayed, but when it had come out that a lot of her housemates had been in on the bet it had hurt more than she was willing to admit.

Cormac was athletic, blond-haired, and popular with her female classmates - she should have known that he wouldn’t have gone for someone like her without some ulterior motive. He had told everyone that she was a good fuck despite her horrid personality, even going so far as to caress her bare shoulder as he said it, and she had hexed him badly enough that he had had to spent a week at Mungo’s. 

She had left for Romania the following week. 

It had merely been luck that they hadn't ever crossed paths in the six months she had been working at the ministry.  Of course it would be _today_ that she finally ran into him again. With a sinking sensation in her stomach, she saw the exact moment he decided to confront her instead of just pretending she wasn’t there.Hermione braced herself for what was surely going to be an unpleasant encounter, just as the door had opened behind her and several voices could be heard.

“-he’s bloody off her rocker.Heard it from Amycus, but Granger’s something else in person-”

“-old you it was a mistake to hire her, scores be damned-”

Her supervisor stopped short when he saw her, the grin disappearing from his face and suddenly looking uncomfortable.She stepped away from the doorway, refusing to show her back to them even as heat was suffusing her cheeks and kicking her chin up in a minute show of defiance. If it was anyone else, she would have folded her arms and asked them ‘ _oh no, please continue, I’d like to here this_ ’ or outright hexed them, but she found herself at a loss as to what to do.They were still her bosses, after all, and she didn’t want to give them an easy out if they tried to get her fired after this.So, she hadn’t said anything.She had breezed past a smirking Cormac McLaggen without looking back.  It had already been bad enough but having her ex, who had always been quick to put her down, calling her a workaholic prude who should've been paying him more attention seeing his own comments about her vindicated by the other wizards was, in a word, humiliating.

Hermione fought off a groan as she wondered what to do, one hand coming up to rub at her temple.She was just a level-entry employee; she had no clout, no connections, no prestigious family name to open any doors for her.She had thought that her qualifications would be enough to start making a difference in her field of choice, but that was a joke, wasn't it? She had worked her ass off to get this tedious job, one she didn’t even particularly like, whereas people like Zabini and Malfoy simply had the highest positions in the ministry handed to them on a silver platter for simply existing.

She wondered if it was too late to return to Romania.She could even go out with a bang, telling off her supervisor for being a misogynist, prejudiced prick while giving him the forks as she walked out.Charlie would welcome her back with arms wide open, she knew, and he would convince the head of the dragon reserve to take her on as a trainee instead of an intern. But working with dragons wasn’t the reason she had worked so hard during school or run all those advocacy programs while she was just a student, and it felt too much like running away and she refused to give them the satisfaction. Even if she did, one day, return to the dragon reserve, it would be on her own terms not because she had been beaten by the system or driven away.

The problem, she knew, was the same problem it had always been: It wasn’t that she was bad at her job and that curried the contempt of her co-workers - no, the problem was that she was a muggleborn witch who refused to come to heel and settle for the ‘place’ the magical world had deemed was hers, and all of her attempts to shake off the yoke had been met with a sort of unmitigated fury by not only the purebloods, but almost anyone too timid to rock the boat and hissed at her to stop making problems.

“No book today?”

Hermione’s started at the sudden intrusion, looking up to see Tom Riddle looking devastatingly handsome and still wearing his plum-colored barrister robes, coffee in hand, and looking down at her with a dark brow raised. 

Hermione tried not to whimper in defeat at how her day was turning out. She would have been thrilled that the wizard she had looked up to for most of her Hogwarts career was taking an interest in her if it had been any other day, but she was already feeling inadequate and overwhelmed, and she wanted time to regroup before she could feel up to a battle of wits with the handsome barrister.

“That would’ve meant going back to my office to get my bag. I didn’t feel much like dealing with my coworkers on an empty stomach," she admitted, doing best not to invite further conversation and fiddled with her paper cup.

She only gave a passing, mourning thought that her silent dismissal would ruin any chance of ever getting close to him, but there was nothing for it.They weren’t friends, but they both frequented this particular cafe during their lunch break and those times had overlapped enough for them to at least exchange pleasantries and become somewhat friendly with each other. 

But Riddle had obviously decided to deviate from routine, and to her surprise, he was smoothly sliding in to the seat opposite of hers, his knees bumping against hers.

Hermione started, jerking her legs away and staring at him wide-eyed.He ignored her shock, unbuttoning his robes and suit jacket in one-handed gesture that left it open so that she could see his neatly-done tie and white button-down shirt. Hermione was stunned in to silence, uncomfortably aware that the other patrons - several of them fellow ministry workers out on their lunch break - opening staring at them. Riddle shifted his legs so they were pressed against her bare ones once more, met her wide-eyed stare head on and folded his arms over his chest, as if waiting for something.

“What?” She asked defensively after a moment when he didn’t say anything. Her fingers tightened around her cup, hating the feeling of being put on edge.

“You had a meeting about the werewolf registration act today,” he said with one brow raised. “What did you expect to happen? They would welcome you with open arms?”

Hermione flushed, any charitable thought she had about the man flying right out of her head. _Of course_.Riddle was devastating attractive, broad-shouldered and tall, with dark eyes and hair against pale skin, and he was enormously talented, but he was cold - And despite his ability to both charm and manipulate just about anyone, he could be a real asshole when he wanted to be. She had seen it happen a few times at school, especially when the Weasley twins had been involved (there had been one particularly incident in her first year when the twins had charmed snowballs to repeatedly hit Riddle in the back of the head... safe to say it had only happened _the once_ before the twins learned to steer clear of the Slytherin prefect) and even more so at the ministry as stories of how he viciously tore down any opponents that went after him or his background got around. 

Hermione really wished he would get back up and sit far away from her. 

Tom Riddle had been raised by muggles, like her, and he had graduated top of class, same as her, however, _unlike her_ , that hadn’t stopped him from already succeeding where she was failing miserably.Tom Riddle had been in fifth year when she started Hogwarts, but even then he was already immensely popular and had a politician’s smile as he worked students and teachers alike like a malleable piece of wax in to whichever shape he chose.It had probably helped that later it was revealed that he was from one of the oldest - _and purest_ \- bloodlines and that surely had opened even more doors for him at the ministry, but it didn’t change the fact that there was something about ministry politics that he was just better at.

“Of course I didn’t. I didn’t expect much of anything from them besides exposure to the idea and some small concessions, but I didn’t expect to be called crazy and laughed out of the committee room, either,” she said.She barely refrained from adding _Bloody Wankers_ because she knew he happened to be chummy with some of them.She uncharitably thought that the association made him one too by default. She shot him a look. “How do you even know about it?”

He shrugged, something indolent and aristocratic, and said, “I tend to know everything of importance happening at the ministry. You never know when something useful might happen.”

“Slytherin of you,” she muttered.

His expression didn’t change, perfectly unemotional even as his intense dark eyes remain focused on her. “You may be smart, Granger, but you’re too much of a bleeding heart for ministry politics,” said Riddle. “You should get out while you can before someone finds a way to get you thrown out.”

“Excuse me?” Hermione had been steadfastly avoiding his gaze throughout the conversation, just wishing he would leave than confront him, but now her eyes had snapped to meet his at the unsubtle threat and she forgot herself - and who he was - for a moment. “Being a ‘bleeding heart’ doesn’t render me incapable of being anything less than _excellent_ at what I do or invalidate my research or any of the other experiences and skills I bring to the table. _I’m_ not the problem. Wizards like you look down on advocacy and empathy as a disadvantage and glorify lying and oppression as the pathway to success, but no offense, it’s rather dull of you.My bosses are content with the status quo because they’re the ones who benefit the most from the current structure and they currently make the rules and change to rules while the majority is left to suffer on their whim; whereas if someone championed the majority, who actually worked to get things done to benefit them, they would be unstoppable."

“So you’re attempting to throw out the old system and make a new one entirely?” He said, and there was just enough mockery in his cool tone to make her lean forward and vehemently hiss, “ _yes_.”

His dark eyes swept across her face and the set of her shoulders, and she had no doubt her agitated magic was frizzing up her careful up-do.She stubbornly kept her eyes on his handsome face and did not shy away.Men like Tom Riddle would chew up and spit out anyone who wasn’t willing to go toe-to-toe with them; it was rather like going up against a dragon, Hermione thought, and she had done that enough times that human men were hardly worse.Running or hiding would just make the situation worse.

“You’re an odd witch, Granger,” he said, and something about his expression gave way and, in its place, something charming and dark replaced it.He leaned forward, and Hermione couldn’t prevent herself from flinching back or ignoring the sudden swooping of her stomach when his face was suddenly inches from hers. “As much as you’d like to start making a difference, you have to learn the game before you can start disregarding the rules and making them sing and dance to your tune. And who better to learn from than me?”

For the second time that day, Hermione found herself at a loss as to what to say. She simply stared at him for a long moment, and she realized belatedly that he was grinning - something that looked impossibly devilish on such an angelic face - and he was trying to charm _her_.

“I’m not interested in becoming a barrister, Riddle,” she said. “I’m sorry if I’ve given you the impression that I was.”

“I’m not asking you to become a barrister.I’m offering you a chance to learn about all the ins-and-outs and backdoor deals of the ministry. I’m going to teach you how to _play_ ,” he emphasized that last word, and Hermione felt a frission of electricity down her spine at the double-meaning he probably hadn’t intended, and swallowed at the charismatic man who was leaning across the table, utterly focused on her, and offering her an opportunity she knew would change everything.What had she done to attract Tom Riddle’s attention, anyway? They had gone from barely acquaintances who occasionally commented on the different books she would bring to the cafe during her lunch break - to having him look at her like..... the only word she could think of as she met his gaze was that he looked like a shark, eager to sink his teeth in her.

Hermione realized with a start that she was staring at him, and embarrassed, forced her shoulders back and squinted at him, making a show of sizing him up.“What’s in it for you?” She didn’t believe for a moment that he was doing this without an ulterior motive. He was a Slytherin, after all.

“Besides the satisfaction of watching those old purebloods getting outsmarted by a muggleborn witch half their age?” He asked with glittering eyes. “One favor. You get me a meeting with Firenze.”

“Firenze?” She squeaked. _How did he know about that_? “Why would you like to meet him?”

“I’m working on a case that involves the centaur herds residing in Great Britain, but getting a meeting with one of them has proven to be difficult.”

“What case?”

He wagged his finger at her, and Hermione contemplated breaking it if the next words out of his pretty mouth were just as condescending as that gesture was. “Not part of the deal,” he said. “Just get me the meeting, and I’ll teach you how to get what you want from your department in less than three months.”

She frowned, her suspicions deepening. “If you’re so sure of yourself, you could surely do it in less than a month,” she chided, because the sooner she could force her ideas into action the better and twelve weeks was a long time. “And why three months?”

He made an annoyed sound. “Are you aware that you ask entirely too many questions?” It was rhetorical question. Still, she smiled sweetly at him.

“Only because I like calling people on their bluffs,” she replied.

He rolled his eyes and it was probably the most plebeian thing she had ever seen him do. “Too Gryffindor,” he muttered under his breath.She pretended not to hear him - not that it was an insult, anyway. “Well? I won’t make this offer again.”

Hermione took a nervous sip of her coffee, buying herself time.

Tom Riddle wasn’t just a snake to be wary of - he was _The_ Snake, in capitals. He lied as easily as he breathed and she knew there was something going on here even if she didn’t know what it was - _yet_. She knew Riddle could get the meeting with Firenze on his own, she was just a shortcut, but any time he would save by using her connection would more than be made up for in the time it took to help her. There were too many loopholes - and just what did he mean by _training her?_ -she didn’t know why, but... for the life of her, she knew she was going to accept despite everything. Tom Riddle, whom she could admit to having no small crush on when she was just an awestruck firstie, and having enough time and opportunities to figure out how he ticked as well as the benefit of whatever knowledge he was planning to give her was too much of a temptation.Maybe the blame could be laid at the feet of her ex or the rest of her department, but regardless, Hermione was recklessly sticking her hand out to him across the table. “Three months,” she reminded him as his cool hand slipped and locked around hers. 


	2. Chapter 02

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione has a chat with Ginny Weasley.

Ginny spluttered and began coughing, dropping her can of beer down on the table with a thunk as she tried clearing her airways.Hermione gingerly patted her back, and then instantly recoiled as the red-head turned an incredulous look in her and demanded, “ _what_ did you just say?”

 

Hermione sighed.“It’s not a big deal, Ginny, we just had some coffee and talked.”

 

“ _With Tom Riddle_.”

 

“So?” 

 

They were both sitting in Hermione's flat, dressed in baggy hand-me-down Quidditch jerseys - one emblazoned with _Weasley_ , the other _Potter_ \- and a box of takeout and beers between them on the coffee table in her tiny living room.  Hermione sighed, dropping her head back against the edge of the sofa and letting her bare legs sprawl out under the coffee table where Ginny had been attempting to polish off the entire box of pizza they had ordered in all by herself.  She just knew this would been Ginny's reaction, but she had honestly wanted her best friend's opinion on the matter, all to aware of her own shortcomings when it came to reading signs from the opposite sex, and it had been one of the better things to report about from last week.  She still couldn't think about her bosses' reaction to her proposal without wanting to sink her nails in to something, and not wanting dwell on the disheartening bureaucracy of the ministry also came with the added benefit of getting GInny's, who was outgoing had always been popular with the boys at school, opinion of the handsome snake.  But now, faced with the almost giddy expression on the other girl's face, she wondered if she was going to regret bringing this up at some point or another.  _Things were never this complicated at the Reserve_ , she thought despondently.

 

“ _With. Tom. Riddle_ ,” Ginny repeated, somehow more emphatically than the first time and Hermione huffed at her. “Hermione,” said Ginny seriously, reaching across the table to grasp Hermione’s shoulder and make her look in her brown eyes. “ _Tom Riddle_ , who is the personification of sex on legs and even if I think he’s a evil little cunt, I would still follow him in to an empty office and let him have his wicked way with me if I were a single witch. _Sex. On. Legs_.”

 

Hermione was partial to agree to that, but she was already shaking her head at the witch. “He didn’t flirt with me at all, Gin. He just asked me how my meeting with the committee went and offered to help me with one of my research projects.” Well, that was close enough to the truth, any way. It’s not like she was going to tell the whole truth when she wasn’t even sure what his ‘training’ was going to entail. If he hadn’t owled her by the end of the week with details, she’d know he had changed his mind or had never intended to follow through with their deal to begin with. Slytherins (even former ones) liked to play with their prey, and she knew that better than most.  And if that _was_ the case,  she wasn’t sure if she’d have the balls to confront him. Had it been anyone except for Tom Riddle himself, she wouldn't even hesitate to call him out for renegading on a deal and making promises he couldn't keep.  But, if she was being honest with herself, and she made a point to always be brutally so, she was the _teensiest_ bit intimidated by him. 

 

Ginny snorted then. “Hermione, you didn’t notice Cormac flirting with you for almost two months and he had hardly been subtle about it. It took a disciplinary meeting with McGonagall after you kneed him in the balls for attempting to put his tongue down your throat before you realized he fancied you.” 

 

Hermione flushed. _Not one of my proudest moments_. “That was _years_ ago, Gin. It’s different,” she said. “And, like you so eloquently put it, he’s _Tom Riddle_. He’s not so hard up for female company that he would resort to the argumentative and frizzy-haired nobody when he could have any one of the pretty pure-bloods swanning about the ministry and likely throwing themselves at him.”

 

Ginny frowned at her, as if wrestling with the idea of saying something before she threw back another long drag of beer. “Cormac is a toerag. _My own brother_ is a toerag. I’ve half a mind to apparate to the Burrow and hex him again.He didn’t deserve you.”

 

“Not all of them are so bad,” she defended, immediately thinking of Bill, Charlie, and the twins, and how they all promised their own brand of revenge on their little brother for losing his temper a few weeks back when she refused him a date, then Hermione frowned. “And what’s that got to do with anything?”

 

“Nothing. Look, Hermione, Ron’s a fucking idiot. Riddle isn’t. He’s not going to turn a blind eye to the brilliant witch right in front of him and if he’s half as smart as everyone says he is, if he wasn’t flirting with you yesterday than he’s definitely going to soon.”

 

Hermione smiled at her best friend, a familiar wave of affection rolling over her at the fierce and earnest expression on Ginny’s face. “You’re so much like Charlie, it’s ridiculous. You both always know the exact right thing to say when I need to hear it,” she said fondly, resisting the urge to reach out and ruffle the red-head’s long hair like she would to her dragon-tamer brother. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you two, you know. Especially after...” She cut herself, giving herself a shake and smiling. “It’s been hard finding my footing here after being gone for the past two years, everything is different and somehow it’s exactly the same, jerks and bigots and all. Twenty-meter high dragons were less intimidating, and simpler too - if they didn’t like you, they just tried to eat you and that was that.”

 

Ginny tipped her bottle forward, clinking it with hers.“You’ll get there, you always do. Your Hermione bleeding Granger,” she said with a grin. “And speaking of brilliance, have you heard what Harry has planned for our anniversary next week?”

 

“Of course not,” said Hermione, matching her cheshire grin with one of her own. “Harry definitely didn’t invoke best friend code last week when he told me to tell you that, if you ask, he most definitely is not planning to take you to a certain newly opened restaurant in Diagon Alley at some point in the near future and even _possibly_ on your anniversary.”

 

Ginny let out a whoop, slamming her beer down on the table once more and cackled in glee. “I fucking knew it!” 

 

Hermione laughed at her best friend, letting herself get swept away as Ginny began demanding details, and did her level best to keep her mind off both her somewhat disappointing return to wizarding Britain and the nervous anticipation of a promise that seemed too good to be true. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very short update. Sorry! I'll only update this when inspiration strikes, and, well, Ginevra Weasley demanded to be written this weekend and so here we are. haha - Pen


End file.
